Such Great Heights
by Madam Torsion
Summary: A sequel/alternate ending to Complicated Shadows. SS/OC
1. The Trick is to Keep Breathing

They're back! This story is neither a sequel and nor is it really an alternate ending to Complicated Shadows. It is somewhere between the two. This story picks up near the end of chapter 35 of Complicated Shadows and gives you all that alternate ending you were so hoping for. Rather than stopping there, however, I am going to continue on into life after the war.

One warning before you begin reading: if you've not yet read Complicated Shadows, you should probably do so or this story will make very little sense. You can read the whole thing or just through chapter 35. (Yes, I hear you, "_Just_ chapter 35, she says.") If you have read it, you may want to re-read that chapter (and maybe a couple before) if it's been a while.

I think that's all that needs to be said at the start. Please read and review!

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"Samantha," he choked out. "I came back."

Though his breathing was ragged and his voice harsh and strained from the wound on his neck, which continued to seep blood, Snape's chest likewise continued to rise and fall with encouraging regularity. The blood replenishing potion Samantha had given him appeared to at least stabilize him, but he was far from the road to recovery. Samantha, however, was damned if they were going to get through the battle alive and have Snape die on her.

"We need to get him back to the castle _now_," Samantha demanded.

Kingsley and Arthur immediately bent to lift Snape's limp body. The group quickly, but carefully, made their way over the lawn strewn with rubble and wounded. Samantha led the way, shoving and shouting as she went.

Word must have made its way to the castle even faster than Samantha, for McGonagall was waiting at the doors to what remained of Hogwarts' once imposing Entrance Hall. Her tartan robes were torn and stained and her usually strictly controlled hair was half falling down her back in gray waves.

"Poppy has already been alerted that you're on your way," she said, in clear need of some way to assuage her guilt. "The hospital wing is all but demolished, so you'll have to make do in the Great Hall."

"It will have to do," Samantha responded tersely as she hurried up the stairs. She was in no mood to help McGonagall make up for how horribly she'd treated Snape – and her, for that matter – over the past year. There would be enough time for that later, there was no room for fresh leaves quite yet.

The students, teachers, and Order members alike parted at Samantha's barked bidding, allowing Kingsley and Arthur, supporting Snape's body, to pass in her wake. Samantha spotted Madam Pomfrey the moment she stepped into the Great Hall. She looked equally as harried as McGonagall, but at least didn't look as though an apology was on the tip of her tongue (though Samantha wasn't so sure that particular feeling wouldn't surface soon). The woman had, thankfully, cleared out an area in which they could work on Snape without an audience breathing down their necks.

"Do you have an antidote for Nagini's venom?" Samantha asked, though she was not at all hopeful at the answer.

"No," she answered. Samantha's face fell. "But," she continued, "Severus has the formulation for one that he brewed for Arthur."

Samantha whipped her head around. How had she never been made aware of this? Stocks of the antidote should have been made in advance.

"It happened the year before you came here," Arthur said, somewhat sheepishly, by way of explanation.

"You work on keeping him stabilized," said Samantha, turning back to face Poppy. "I am going to see what remains of the dungeons."

"I will do everything in my power," Poppy assured her.

Samantha sighed as she turned to leave the hall. And there it was. These women were going to be haranguing Snape for forgiveness the moment he showed any signs of recovery. She already knew exactly what his reaction would be: "There is nothing to forgive." There was, of course, but he would say that he had played his part and that he'd wanted them to treat him as they had. That that's what they were supposed to do. On some level, however much she didn't want to acknowledge it, he was right. If they had questioned his allegiances, his life would have been unquestionably placed in even greater jeopardy than it already was. The problem was that they had all been so ready to doubt his loyalty to Dumbledore and they had easily allowed his history to completely cloud their judgment. Then again, had Samantha not done the same? She had allowed her feelings for him to control how she viewed his actions just as they had done. They were two sides of the same coin, as was so maddeningly often the case in her life.

These thoughts carried Samantha to the badly damaged dungeons. It was fortunate that the door to the lab had been blown clean off, for she had never been given free access to it despite her relationship with Snape. Luck did not even begin to cover how very fortunate it was that the fighting had not really made it down this far and, though there was severe structural damage to the walls, likely from errant spells and the crashing of thunderous giants on the upper levels, the majority of Snape's ingredients and equipment were intact.

"Now, where would you be if you were a research notebook," Samantha said aloud to the room, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She had read somewhere that you were more likely to find something if you actually said the word of the thing you were looking for. Her habit of talking to herself suddenly seemed like a virtue.

It took Samantha only minutes to locate the battered notebook. While he had likely copied out his final findings elsewhere, she didn't have the time to search his entire office. She began to flip through pages, forcing herself to not get sidetracked by what was clearly decades worth of research. She finally came across a potion that had no title, probably on purpose, but clearly had all the elements one could look for in an antivenin.

She was devastated, even if she was not surprised, to find that Nagini's venom was one of those elements. Before allowing herself to lose all hope, she started searching through Snape's fairly priceless ingredients, praying that he'd kept a vial of it on hand. As she carefully sifted through the vials and jars, her confidence that she could save him began to fade as each item proved to be yet another exciting, expensive, and completely useless ingredient. Just as her pool of candidates shrank to only five remaining options, she picked up a small black vial labeled in Snape's unmistakable handwriting. She struggled to make out the small script and nearly dropped it when she realized she was holding a vial of Nagini's venom.

"Thank you," she fervently whispered to whatever deity happened to be listening.

Samantha assembled all of the equipment and ingredients Snape had listed in his notebook to make sure there wasn't anything she was missing. Seeing that all seemed to be in order, she sent her Patronus to the Great Hall to tell Poppy that she was beginning the potion and to keep working on Snape.

As her Patronus, which had from her childhood taken the form of a beloved cat she had owned for most of her young life, took off for the Great Hall, Samantha set to work brewing what would likely be one of the most complicated potions she had ever attempted to create. The intricate brewing process probably matched, if it did not exceed, the time-consuming work that went into Wolfsbane. It cemented once more in her mind Snape's shamefully unrecognized prowess in the discipline. It also drove her to succeed in saving him if only because he would then be free to research and publish to his heart's content.

Both Poppy and McGonagall let out a sigh of relief when Samantha's Patronus delivered its message. It was one of the first times in more years than they cared to think about that either of the witches could remember that a Patronus had been used to announce _good_ news.

Poppy continued to tend to Snape as McGonagall looked on. Bystanders had initially tried to catch a peek of the ailing war hero, but Kingsley had swiftly dissuaded anyone of getting too close to the mediwitch and her patient. Snape still looked awful, but there was the barest hint of color in his cheeks, even if Poppy could still not get the wound to close. She knew it was dark magic preventing it from healing properly, but she hadn't the first idea what to try first. Her best hope was Snape's own potion. It didn't heal the wound on its own, as they'd found with Arthur, but it counteracted the dark magic in the venom, allowing healing spells to work as they should.

"How did he do it?" McGonagall asked everyone and no one for what was probably the hundredth time. "All that time and he had no one who knew the truth."

"Samantha knew the truth," Poppy said, though neither had heard that from Samantha herself.

"I suspect she did," McGonagall agreed with a sigh. She would have plenty of apologizing to do when all this was over.

McGonagall paced furiously while Poppy continued to work on keeping Snape from slipping into a coma. They were bad enough in the Muggle world, but a coma brought on through dark magic actively worked to trap the victim in a comatose state, effectively turning him into a prisoner in his own tormented mind. Witches and wizards who were left in comas for too long had been known to lose their minds when revived. Poppy knew she would have little hope of saving Snape even with the potion should that come to pass.

It was hours before Samantha had a finished batch of the potion. There was only enough of the venom left for one attempt. While the potion appeared to be what Snape had described in his notes, Samantha knew the only sure test was to come. However much confidence she had in her skills, the circumstances in which she'd found herself brewing were not particularly conducive to the kind of exacting concentration she normally devoted to her potions. Samantha fervently prayed as she ascended the stairs from the dungeons that her work would prove successful.

"Poppy, I have it," she said urgently, hurrying to Snape's cot.

Most people were busy tending to others, if they weren't sleeping themselves, so they thankfully had no audience to speak of as Samantha administered the potion. She sat on the edge of Snape's cot and pulled the cork out of the flask. Poppy had shifted Snape's pillows so he was almost in a sitting position. He was completely unconscious. It was the only thing saving him from the pain he would feel given that they couldn't give him any pain relieving potions until after his wound could be closed. Samantha held his head back and tipped the flask into his open mouth. She massaged his throat to help him swallow, careful to avoid aggravating the bite marks.

"How long did this take last time?" Samantha asked Poppy as she gently laid his head back on his pillow, keeping her eyes on his pale face.

"Arthur was conscious within a couple of hours, but he was found almost immediately after he'd been attacked. Given the state of him, Severus had to have been bitten at least three or four hours ago. Maybe more," Poppy said, worry creeping into her voice.

"It was more. I saw him in the forest just as Malfoy told him that the Dark Lord wanted to talk to him. That was not long after the battle began. He _must_ have known something like this could happen," Samantha said angrily, more to herself than to anyone around her. "Why was he not prepared for it?"

As Samantha brooded, Poppy ran diagnostic spells over Snape's prone form. Samantha looked up at her expectantly when she was done. Poppy shook her head.

"It's too soon to tell anything," she said apologetically. "You should get some sleep. I will run these checks again in an hour."

Samantha shook her head. She was not about to take a nap while Snape fought for his life. She sat in the chair next to his bed, his clammy hand clasped firmly in her own.

Throughout the night, Poppy performed hourly diagnostic spells on Snape's condition. Each hour, she could give Samantha no more hope than she had the previous. After this had happened the fourth time, Samantha reached into the pocket of her robes to extract the rosary she had taken to keeping on her person. Most of the time, it served as little more than a security blanket, now she was desperate to have her prayers heard. Keeping Snape's hand in her own, she knelt on the hard, cold stone and wrapped the rosary around both of their hands. She leant her head against their clasped hands and begged for Snape's recovery. Samantha could practically feel her heart break at the very thought that she could lose Snape after they'd gotten through this far.

Poppy continued to tend to Snape around Samantha, who refused to move for the rest of the night and into the morning. The only concession she would allow was a small pillow to pad her aching knees.

It was nearing midday when Snape stirred. The first thing he registered was a searing pain in his neck. The second was that he was no longer in the Shrieking Shack. From there, it all came back; giving his memories to Potter, Kingsley finding him, and Samantha on the battlefield. Had he _actually_ survived? It was then that he realized someone was holding his hand. He cracked his eyes open and squinted against the harsh light coming in from the windows across the hall from where he lay. Turning his head slightly, he saw Samantha, her head against their hands. She wasn't asleep, for her lips were moving and tears were sliding down her cheek. Snape lifted a finger to brush them away. Samantha gasped and looked up at him.

"Severus," she whispered in a broken voice, sounding as if this surely must be a dream.

"Samantha," he croaked. He winced at the pain.

Samantha stood up immediately and called for Poppy, who rushed to his side.

"Oh, Severus, you had us so worried," Poppy exclaimed, clearly relieved. "I am going to try to heal your wound now. The potion should have removed dark magic."

He must have had a quizzical look on his face, for she nodded her head toward Samantha.

"I found your notes for Arthur," Samantha explained, continuing to hold his hand in a vice-like grip. "You do know there are about eight superfluous steps in the potion, right?"

Snape almost laughed at her critique. Only she wouldn't think twice about saying such a thing at a time like this.

Poppy said the spell and sighed in relief when it closed the wound. There would be a nasty scar, but there was no more dark magic preventing at least most of it from healing properly. Samantha immediately grabbed a pain relief potion from the small trolley that had been wheeled to Snape's bedside and moved to bring it to his lips. Snape shook his head and took the bottle from her hands.

"Let me do it myself," he said in a whisper, not wanting to strain his throat. He was thankful that Samantha didn't look put out by his refusal, but rather glad that he was asserting his ability to take care of himself. Snape downed the potion and immediately felt a lessening of the pain in his neck, but there was still a background throbbing. Given that he should have died, he had to be thankful for small mercies.

Samantha took in a great lungful of air and let it out slowly as she smiled at him. She moved her hand to his face to brush the stray hairs out of his eyes.

"We survived," she said simply, knowing the great weight those two words carried for both of them.

Snape never believed he would ever hear those words. He had accepted a long time ago that he would die doing what he did. Spies were not known for their longevity and, frankly, he was surprised that he had lasted as long as he had. Truthfully, he was at a loss as to what came next. This had been his existence for his entire adult life and, if he were honest, had defined much of his adolescence. He wouldn't mind continuing to teach, he knew that much. Excellent as his brewing skills were, Snape had no desire to go into it commercially. Customers had to be treated with kindness and care. Students did not. He suppressed the urge to grin wickedly as he imagined his students finding out that he would not stop being a bastard just because the war was over. And not only that, he could finally rein in his house. He could finally encourage them to develop the skills that had gotten them into Slytherin without the attendant ideology he'd been required to uphold. New beginnings, indeed.

Samantha watched Snape carefully as he stared out of the window opposite his bed. She said nothing, wanting to allow her words to sink in. The glimmer of amusement in his eyes, however, piqued her interest.

"What on earth is going on in that head of yours, Severus Snape?" She asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Snape raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at her, his lips twitching, plans already forming.

"The House of Slytherin won't know what hit them."


	2. Rebuild and Renew

This was quite a difficult chapter to write. Snape might seem OOC here, but, well, I've never claimed to be completely canon compliant, so I'm allowed to idealize him a bit. I'm sure we'll find something for him to get angry about soon. Please read and review!

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Snape's recovery progressed far more quickly than either he or Samantha could have even hoped for. By the second day of forced bed rest, Snape had rebelled and begun pacing the Great Hall, easily dissuading any well-wishers from approaching him along the way. He had taken to doing so each day, Samantha at his side. By the fourth day, he had offered his arm to her. Samantha only just refrained from smirking triumphantly when he did so. They had spent so long hiding everything; she didn't even have the words to describe how relieved she felt that they could finally be what she'd longed for all those months ago as they hid themselves away in the headmaster's rooms: a "normal" couple.

The rebuilding of the castle, however, was a far different matter. Magical, though it was, the wards that had protected its walls had not fallen in centuries. Indeed, prior to Voldemort, no wizard had ever succeeded in completely penetrating the layer upon layer of spells and enchantments that each head and his or her staff had cast upon the castle since its founding. The first task that presented itself was clearing out the rubble and deciding from there what could be salvaged and what was simply too destroyed to serve any further purpose.

Snape was adamant that no one but he and Samantha be allowed to go through anything having to with potions, whether it was the lab, his office, or one of his trio of storerooms. He'd had some of the workmen as students and wanted them nowhere near his equipment or his ingredients. Though Poppy had _strongly_ cautioned him against overtaxing himself so soon after such a traumatic experience, Snape was equally strong in his determination to get his dungeons back in working order. Samantha could only stand by and shrug while quietly assuring Poppy after he'd stormed out of the Great Hall that she would keep an eye on him.

"At least _your_ rooms weren't in the main thoroughfare of the fighting," Samantha observed on their second day of cleaning after Snape had complained about the mess. "Mine were on the first floor just off the grand staircase. I've lost nearly everything I had in the castle."

"I am sorry," he said, for once sounding genuinely apologetic. "I did not realize."

Samantha shrugged.

"I'm alive and you're alive, I cannot ask for much more than that," she said with a smile. "Besides, most of what I own of any value is still in my flat in London."

"Your flat in London?" Snape asked, utterly confused.

"The one my Mark and I had," she explained. "Did I really never tell you that I hadn't yet sold it?"

Snape shook his head.

Samantha sat and sighed.

"To be honest, when I first came here, I couldn't bear the thought of selling it. And I didn't know if I'd ever need it again. It is, if I may say so, a bloody nice flat," she added almost as an aside. "Besides, I didn't, and still don't, need the money. I inherited everything Mark had when he died."

Snape raised an eyebrow. Samantha winced inwardly. She hadn't meant it to sound so…arrogant.

"Indeed?" He said, Samantha could almost swear he sounded jealous, even angry. He refused to look at her, however, and instead resolutely returned to clearing out the storeroom in the lab.

"Severus," said Samantha, trying to get his attention. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered, too quickly Samantha thought.

"No, not nothing. Are you upset that I haven't gotten rid of the flat?" She asked, wondering if perhaps he thought she wasn't ready to move on from Mark.

"Why should I care if you own a 'bloody nice flat' and inherited a fortune so large you can just forget to tell me about it?" Snape responded with the hint of sneer.

Samantha rolled her eyes. Magical or not, British society managed to hold on to class prejudices in a way she had never experienced in America. It did, perhaps, explain why there was such isolation in the magical community from the broader population. From her experience, the majority of American wizards and witches – pureblood or not – lived among Muggles with no problem. Then again, she had only lived in the Northeast. Perhaps wizards in the Bible Belt kept themselves just as hidden as their British counterparts.

"Severus," Samantha said again, her voice quiet and pleading. "I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. None of it seemed relevant when we didn't even know if we'd still be alive the next day."

She tried not to get angry, but as she spoke her voice only got louder until she'd finally yelled "day."

Snape slammed the jar he was holding down on the counter so hard Samantha was sure it would shatter. He turned and made for the door, but Samantha grabbed his arm and forced him to face her.

"What is this about? Mark? The money? Or the fact that I didn't tell you?"

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and merely glared, unwilling to respond. Samantha mirrored his pose. Two could play at this game. After a few moments, Snape looked away. He tapped his foot irritably, looking indecisive. Finally, he sighed and turned back to face Samantha.

"I can't give you any of that," he mumbled at last, the words unwillingly escaping from his lips.

Samantha knew better than to laugh in response.

"Do you think I married Mark because of his money, Severus?" Samantha asked, thinking she would probably hit him if he said yes.

Snape wisely shook his head.

"Then why should it matter how much money you have?"

Truth be told, Samantha had absolutely no idea what his finances looked like. She had a feeling he hadn't grown up in the lap of luxury, but he dressed well enough to suggest that he had a little set aside.

"I grew up poor," he said at last. As if that would explain it all. "Working class."

"Severus, I grew up in America, those kinds of class differences don't hold water the way they do here," she explained. "And I might add that my parents were not made of money either. Mark practically paid for our wedding out of his own pocket."

"And now you'll have to do the same," Snape responded immediately, without thinking of what he was actually saying. Samantha practically fainted.

"Wh- Are you-," Samantha stopped and laughed to break the tension. "Was that some kind of round about proposal?"

Snape shrugged in response, clearly self-conscious about what he'd revealed.

"If you want me to answer you, you have to do it properly," Samantha challenged him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He raised an eyebrow and – Samantha's heart leapt – smirked in response. Wordlessly, he withdrew his wand from his sleeve and summoned something from the vicinity of his office. Not a moment later, a small black box zoomed into his outstretched hand.

"If you think you're getting a speech, you are clearly with the wrong man," Snape said as he slowly lowered himself to one knee, doing all he could to not wince as his knees and ankles cracked. When had he gotten so old?

Samantha was trying rather in vain to not be too giddy about what was coming.

"Samantha Rhodes," he said, opening the box to reveal the ring within. "Will you marry me?"

"Of course, my love," Samantha responded, bending over to kiss him, smiling against his mouth.

Snape buried one hand in her hair, holding her mouth to his as he stood back to his full height. When they parted, Samantha was graced with one of the few true smiles she had ever seen on his face. She knew how rarely he did smile wasn't a reflection on what he felt for her, but rather that he smiled at all. Samantha shakily held out her left hand for Snape to place the ring on her finger.

Whatever he may have said about growing up poor, it was clear that he hadn't skimped on this. Samantha knew immediately that it wasn't an heirloom piece and that Snape must have bought it himself. What she was most surprised about, however, was how well he seemed to guess the style that she liked. She didn't wear that much jewelry on a regular basis and had stopped wearing her rings from her previous marriage before she had even met Snape. This ring, she had to admit, was perfect. Rather than one solid band, it had two thin bands on the top that were lined with small diamonds and then merged to form one band that wrapped around the underside of her finger. The center stone was a rounded square, surrounded by more tiny diamonds. It was not so large as to be gaudy, but large enough that there was no mistaking this for anything other than an engagement ring. Tears filled Samantha's eyes as she stared down at her hand.

"Severus, I don't know what to say," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "It's perfect. When on earth did you get it?"

"Last year," he said, his eyes likewise fixed on the ring. "Before…everything happened. I took polyjuice and went to a Muggle jeweler."

Samantha shook her head in disbelief at his determination.

"I guess I'll be sending an owl to Father Matthews today," said Samantha, still smiling. She laughed when she saw Snape's look of panic.

"Not that quickly," she assured him. "But it's best to tell him now. Even if we wanted to get married right away anyway we couldn't. It takes a minimum of six months just to get through the pre-nuptial classes."

"_Classes?"_ Snape asked, beginning to feel a little out of his depth.

"It's a sacrament, they just want to make sure couples know what that means," Samantha explained. "Don't worry, I've already done it once before. They're more like information seminars than anything else."

Snape nodded, but still looked dubious.

While Snape went back to work, Samantha stood still in thought, though she was not contemplating the new ring on her finger. The engagement had reminded her of how much of the future had still not been settled.

"Severus," she said after a moment. "Have you thought about what you're going to teach?"

Snape reemerged from the storeroom, looking confused.

"What I'm going to teach?"

"Well, are you going to be teaching Defense or Potions this year?"

There was a flash of understanding in his eyes.

"It depends on what Minerva wants," Snape answered honestly. "The Defense post was always notoriously difficult to fill, due in part to the now-substantiated rumor that it was cursed. Either way, she will be looking for a Defense teacher or a Muggle Studies teacher."

"It's just that I was thinking last night that I wouldn't mind going back to Muggle Studies," Samantha said carefully. "I had some ideas about the curriculum and with everything that's happened, I think there might be greater interest in the subject and I don't want Minerva hiring the same kind of Muggle Studies teacher that's taught the class."

"I admit to being surprised you would willingly give up Potions," said Snape.

Samantha shrugged.

"I love researching and experimenting with potions, not teaching it," she explained. "I got through last year, but that was thanks to, well, other reasons. Potions students need a heavier hand, I'd much rather be the well-liked one."

Snape snorted as Samantha smirked.

"Bring it up with Minerva before she makes anyone an offer. Otherwise _you _get to be the great bat of the dungeons."

Samantha looked pensive for a moment before giving him a lopsided smile.

"What?" He asked, suspicious.

"I just realized that I'll be the well-liked Snape," she said, still smiling.

Snape was confused, but only for a moment. When he realized what she was saying, he gave her a warm smile. That would certainly take getting used to.

Just before she left for her temporary rooms that evening, Samantha turned to Snape, who was going through his desk.

"Severus, are we going to announce this or something?" She asked. "People will definitely notice the ring on my finger."

Snape sat back in his chair. This was not exactly his area of expertise. After a moment of thought, he shrugged.

"Is it necessary? The only people who we would even care to know are in this castle," he answered. "Putting it in the Daily Prophet would probably not end well."

Samantha nodded in agreement. It was certainly no use borrowing trouble doing that. She bid Snape good night and walked back to the rooms she'd been given to use until her own were once more in working order.

Snape sat back in his desk chair and shook his head in disbelief. He had planned on asking her to marry him, but not quite so soon. Still, she'd said yes and all had ended well. For once in his life. Well, that wasn't entirely true. They'd both survived the war, he was more or less in one piece, and now here he was, someone's fiancé. That was certainly something he'd never thought would happen. Not after his fifth year, anyway.

He sighed and leaned his head on the back of the chair. Snape positively reveled in the knowledge that the memory of that day was no longer his worst. Now that things were properly in perspective, he knew that while that incident had played a part in what he would become, it wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to him. And it wasn't as if he wouldn't have gone off the rails sooner or later. Lily's condemnation had been bubbling beneath the surface for months and only took one word to bring it to light.

Sitting up abruptly, Snape shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs. There was no reason to be dwelling on such things when he had just gotten _engaged_. Resolutely, he returned to clearing out his desk.

The next morning, Samantha went straight for the head's office, not wanting to give McGonagall any time to hire anyone in her place.

"Minerva," Samantha said by way of greeting upon entering the office. McGonagall hadn't changed it much, though it felt slightly more welcoming than when Snape had been its tenant.

"Tea?" McGonagall asked, already moving toward the pot. Samantha nodded.

"I wanted to talk to about the coming term," she started.

McGonagall hummed her recognition as she poured milk into two cups.

"I would like to teach Muggle Studies. Severus–" she stopped, accepting her cup with a nod. "Thank you. Severus is perfectly willing to –"

Samantha stopped again when she noticed that McGonagall wasn't paying much attention to her. Well, that wasn't quite right. She was paying an inordinate amount of attention to Samantha's left hand.

"Is that what I think it is?" McGonagall asked. Samantha wasn't sure what her tone suggested.

She hadn't meant to flash her ring when taking her cup, Samantha hadn't done it the first time she got engaged and she wasn't about to start now.

"Um, well, yes," said Samantha, a note of finality in her admission. It was out in the open now. Other people knew.

"Don't you think it's a bit soon?"

Samantha wasn't affronted by the question. It was perfectly legitimate. Wars had a habit of creating relationships where none would have otherwise existed. She shrugged.

"We _have_ known each other for two years now and have been together for nearly half that. I don't think it was sudden by any means, even if Severus hadn't really intended to ask me when he did," Samantha explained. "Had this happened in the middle of the war, then I don't think it would have been a wise decision. But we survived. It's time to start building a life. A _real_ life."

McGonagall, Samantha was surprised to see, looked completely accepting of her answer. Samantha couldn't pretend she hadn't rehearsed it in her head the night before, knowing someone would demand an explanation.

"So, Muggle Studies, is it?" McGonagall said, turning their conversation back to Samantha's initial reason for her visit.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "And as I was saying, Severus will teach Potions. If you can't find someone for Defense, however, I think your only choice is to fill the Muggle Studies position while I teach Potions and he Defense. I don't think he'd give up Potions to anyone else if he has any choice in the matter."

"I thought Potions was your area. Why would you go back to Muggle Studies?"

"As I told Severus, I like teaching Muggle Studies and I like doing Potions research. He's far better at keeping his students under control than I am, so it suits me not to have to," Samantha explained. "And I have some ideas for the curriculum."

"Do you, now?" McGonagall asked with a smile. Samantha would not be the last teacher to approach her with _ideas_.

"I thought we might be able to include field trips," she started tentatively, quickly building steam. "My classes are smaller than most, so they would be manageable. Other than the Muggleborns, I sincerely doubt many of the students here have gone to a museum. Especially purebloods. The best way to ensure that – what happened – doesn't happen again is through showing them the fruits of Muggle society firsthand. One is less likely to dehumanize another if they are acquainted with and can appreciate their social and cultural values."

Samantha drew a breath to continue.

"I agree," McGonagall interjected.

"I think – oh," Samantha said, belatedly registering McGonagall's words. "Well, I'll start making arrangements, then."

"And Severus really doesn't mind giving up Defense?"

"I think Severus has practiced enough defense against the Dark Arts to last a lifetime," said Samantha. "Do you know of anyone who could take the job?"

"As it happens," McGonagall began, taking a bite of shortbread. "I do. Bill Weasley happened to mention that he thought his curse breaking days might be at an end."

"He would be an _excellent_ choice," Samantha said, turning thoughtful. "Between his war experience and curse breaking, behind Severus he's as qualified as they come."

"I thought as much myself," said McGonagall. "Well, I should be getting back to this paperwork. Having the castle rebuilt has resulted in a landslide of forms."

"Of course," Samantha said, brushing a few crumbs from her robes as she stood. "One more thing before I go."

"Yes?"

"I had thought about perhaps starting a monthly book club for the students. The older ones rarely take Muggle Studies and I thought we could read Muggle fiction, plays, poetry, what have you. Maybe fourth years and up?"

Samantha knew that she really didn't need to go looking for work. God knows, she had plenty to do between teaching and research.

"As you say, start making arrangements," McGonagall said with a sweep of her arm.

"Good, right, yes," Samantha answered absently as she left, plans already forming in her mind.

McGonagall laughed as Samantha left, glancing over her shoulder to find Dumbledore looking quite mirthful himself.

"Severus getting married," McGonagall said aloud to the empty room. Knowing, of course, that no room in Hogwarts was ever really empty.

"How long are you going to let him think you don't know?" Dumbledore's portrait asked.

McGonagall shrugged playfully and gave him a conspiratorial smirk.

"I'm not going to announce it at the Sorting Feast, if that's what you're thinking, Albus," said McGonagall. "The man's earned his privacy."

"That he has," Dumbledore said wistfully. "That he has."

Dinner that evening was, as it had been for the past week, populated primarily by staff, some of the workers who were staying over in the castle as they rebuilt its ancient walls, as well as a handful of aurors who were stationed at Hogwarts to ward off reprisals from the remaining pockets of roaming Death Eaters; pockets that were, thankfully, beginning to be very few and far between. Snape and Samantha had no plans for any kind of formal announcement and, by the time the tea and coffee had appeared on the table, thought that perhaps either no one had noticed or no one had thought the rock on Samantha's finger was worth commenting on.

_Perhaps_.

As Samantha grasped the teapot her ring glinted prettily, and _very_ noticeably, in the candlelight. If she had truly wanted no one to know, she wouldn't have worn the ring at all, or would have at least put it on her other hand, but nothing prepared her for the rush of whispers that immediately circled the table.

Flitwick, who had been sitting next to her, took it upon himself to ask the question everyone else had on their minds.

"Is that from Severus?" He asked, even his tiny voice carrying over the now hushed audience they'd acquired.

Samantha looked to Snape before answering. He gave her an imperceptible nod. She turned back to Flitwick and nodded, unable to keep herself from smiling.

"Congratulations!" He squeaked as the previously silent table burst into a whirlwind of noise and handshaking. One of the workers, who had been in school with Snape but two years behind, even went so far as to give Snape a clap on the back. Surprisingly, Snape took it with what counted as good grace as far as he was concerned. Samantha was happy to see that he seemed more willing not so much to show his emotions in front of others, but rather to not withdraw or lash out when others expressed their own.

As the commotion died down, McGonagall tapped her spoon against her teacup to get the attention of the hall.

"We are all, of course, very happy for Severus and Samantha," she began. "While this news is not a secret, I would advise you not to spread it too enthusiastically. The wizarding world is still not as safe as we would like it to be and there are some who would not receive this information gladly."

Samantha nodded her thanks to McGonagall. She was grateful the headmistress had taken it upon herself to warn the others off gossiping about the newly engaged couple, rather than giving Snape leave to ruin the good will he'd recently earned through threats and intimidation.

Walking arm in arm to her temporary rooms, Snape and Samantha strode leisurely through the castle.

"Will you be moving back into your own rooms once they've been restored or will you be moving to the dungeons?" Snape asked carefully, keeping his gaze resolutely fixed on his feet.

"I think it would be best if we wait until after we're married," Samantha answered honestly, hoping she hadn't just ruined his plans. "The students would talk."

Snape nodded, but kept his head down.

"Severus, we're engaged, you're not allowed to doubt my sincerity," said Samantha, only half joking.

Finally lifting his head, he lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. Samantha sighed mentally in relief. It would take time to get it into his head that she wasn't going to leave him, but he was, at least, on his way. She didn't blame him, of course. Anyone with his history would be lucky to retain their sanity, much less any sense of mutual fidelity.

"I don't doubt you, Samantha," he said at last, his voice almost a whisper. "I doubt myself."

Samantha knew better than to simply wave away his feelings. Navel gazer, he certainly was not, and, as morose as he could be, he was not given to broadcasting his insecurities.

"Then I shall have to do my best to help you see yourself as I see you," said Samantha softly, stopping and turning to face him. She caught his gaze and held it for a few moments before they turned and continued on their way to her rooms. They walked in silence until they reached her door.

Snape held Samantha's hand in his own, his thumbs tracing the lines on her palm. He seemed undecided about what he wanted to say.

"I will…endeavor to be the man you see," he said, flicking his eyes up to Samantha's face.

Knowing she had very little she could say in response to that, Samantha simply stood on her toes and kissed him softly. It seemed to be answer enough for him, for Snape nodded when she pulled back, looking slightly surer about himself.

"Crisis averted?" Samantha asked playfully.

Snape hummed in response, not completely willing to admit the severity of the doubts that plagued him daily, especially where Samantha was concerned.

Samantha nodded knowingly.

"For now," she answered for him. She knew better than to think anything would ever be easy with a man named Severus.


End file.
